Sens mon amour

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."  - Helen Keller


I found solace in a place where only anguish dwelt, worshipped a harvest moon in the stygian blackness of a cloudless sky, and resented the birth of a painted sunrise with the broken light of every dawn. I found forbidden beauty in a place where beauty was not meant to be, and it filled me.

I rode a desolate, westerly wind that carried only the verbena scent of my tears as it made its fated journey, leaving the treetops weeping and exposed, carving  the peaks of mountain ranges and desperately seeking the warmth of your touch. Not with my hands, but with my heart.

It is the sweeping wind that carries my tears (crystalettes damp with love) past the scowling trees that would tangle us in their green hair, beyond the mountains that rise like Shakespeare's cloud-capp'd towers, to find fury in your arms & the burning of our kisses.

Let not the angels nor devils on dark horses nor even poetry hold back the love-in-lust that bequeaths my naked desire to my solitary Soldier ( only to you), as I hold your heart in mine.

I hold your heart in mine...